


I've Got Your Number, Not Your Name

by Tertbutyl_Okita



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Awkward Flirting, Eventual Romance, F/M, M/M, Multi, Slow Burn, Strangers to Lovers, Texting, Unresolved Sexual Tension, flirting through text, wrong number romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-14
Updated: 2019-08-14
Packaged: 2020-08-23 17:02:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,741
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20246269
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tertbutyl_Okita/pseuds/Tertbutyl_Okita
Summary: Two strangers start texting, and texting leads to a lot more.Aziraphale ought to thank Newton Pulsifer for jumbling up his contacts; he never would have texted Crowley in the first place.





	I've Got Your Number, Not Your Name

**xxx-xxx-xxxx**

**Ms. Device, where did you leave my copy of ** ** _De Coelesti Hierarchia_ ** **? I was rearranging the shelves and noticed a missing book in the Angelogy section. **

Crowley had been trying to sleep at his desk when he got the mysterious text. He made it so that his phone effectively didn’t notify him whenever Hastur, Ligur, Dagon, Beelzebub – essentially everyone at his office – tried to message him. His work at Acheron, Inc. was contractual, and he only had to come in whenever he had a report to give to the higher ups or another job to take. Any further interaction from his coworkers could be conducted on his own time, when he wasn’t napping. Or watering his plants. Or working. But unknown numbers still managed to get through.

He lifted his head up a smidgen from between his arms to glance at whatever notification he received, and saw that it was from an unknown number. At that, he put his head back down and tried to resume his nap. Beelzebub hadn’t summoned him over to their office, yet, and he wanted a brief reprieve before he had to endure their wrath.

But the person, whoever they were, refused to let up on their texts.

**xxx-xxx-xxxx**

**I did plan catching up on some of Aquinas’s theories before my meeting with a potential seller next week. He only wanted to part with a first edition _The Book of Enoch_ if the buyer was well versed in the study of angels. But if you aren’t nearby, perhaps we can exchange books over tea with you and Mr. Pulsifer? I still have your copy of Agnes Nutter, in pristine condition. **

**xxx-xxx-xxxx**

**Anathema? **

Crowley groaned, and reached out for his phone. So much for getting some shut-eye. If he didn’t respond soon the mysterious texter would message him all throughout his presentation, and Beelzebub would make him stay even longer in this hell-hole of an office.

_xxx-xxx-6666_

_If you wanted to go out on a date, all you had to do was ask, Angel. ;)_

Whoever this person was, Crowley figured that it was certainly a good way to prematurely end a conversation.

**xxx-xxx-xxxx**

**I take it that this isn’t Ms. Anathema Device? **

Either this person was painfully oblivious, or just took Crowley’s flirtations in jest. Crowley glanced at the clock. Ten more minutes left. He supposed he had time to spare for a stranger.

_xxx-xxx-6666_

_Sorry to break it to you, but no. Who even names a kid Anathema? _

Names like that were automatic signs for playground bullies to push you off your swing, or make you to fall from your monkey bars, where you landed face-first in the sand, surrounded by chants of “Creepy-Crawly! Creepy-Crawly!”

Kindergarten certainly wasn’t the best part of Crowley’s life, that’s for sure. He didn’t like recalling it, especially after the monkey bar incident. 

**xxx-xxx-xxxx**

**I wouldn’t be one to judge. But I apologize for messaging you. Technology gets the better of me more often than not. I suppose I’ll just give Ms. Device a ring then. Have a blessed day. :) **

_xxx-xxx-6666_

_It’s np, Angel. Gl on getting that Enoch book of yours. _

Crowley fiddled with his phone for a few minutes more, scrolling mindlessly thorough Twitter before heading over to Beelzebub’s office. His manager appeared disinterested in what he had to say (but they always seemed disinterested, really) regarding his interception of information on their rival company Elysium Fields Corporation’s recent acquisitions and holdings. But then Crowley mentioned how the boss over at Elysium, Gabriel, was finally making the move to purchase the Garden of Eden, a relatively large estate that was now up for grabs, for property development, and he could have sworn he saw Beelzebub’s eyes flare up.

“You know what you have to do now, right, Crowley?” Beelzebub drawled, leaning forward in their chair, hands underneath their chin. 

“Yes, yes, you know me – I’ll do it with style. Just give me a few weeks. Thorough research and all.”

“Do it properly, and you’ll get a commendation from down there,” Beelzebub flicked their finger downwards, and Crowley’s eyes followed suit. 

He found it ridiculous that despite the fact that he was part of a mostly reputable company (for the media’s sake, at least), Acheron, Inc. refused to part with the dingy, underground office building that they’ve called home since the beginning. His office had a sort of reverse-order hierarchy – Beelzebub’s bosses kept to the bottommost levels, while he stayed around the middlemost rungs – neither too good to be promoted, nor too terrible to be fired outright.

Crowley started to pack up his laptop and presentation supplies and made his way towards an already open door (Dagon, head of Accounting, and Beezlebub’s right hand, was a punctuality fiend). He raised his hand up in farewell as he retreated, “Ciao.”

Once out of earshot, and with Dagon shutting the door behind him, Beelzebub muttered, “I think he’s been contractual far too long, don’t you think, Dagon? ‘Bout time we reign him in.”

Dagon nodded in agreement, and set a massive stack of paperwork atop his boss’s desk. “Definitely gone native.”

* * *

The best part of Crowley’s contract work was the amount of time he decided to put into it. Which was, unsurprisingly, very minimal, unless absolutely necessary. He’d get a good nap in first, some quality time to yell at his plants, maybe go to a museum or two. London was an ever-changing city – there was certainly something new to do somewhere. He was thankful Beelzebub and the rest of them more or less operated with the policy, “As long as it got done, we’ll leave you be.” He did have the occasional piece of paperwork to complete, though, but he left it on the back burner more often than not.

Much to his surprise, a few days later, as Crowley was misting his plants, he felt his pocket vibrate, from the same mysterious ‘Angel’.

**xxx-xxx-xxxx**

**You wouldn’t happen to know how to edit a contact list, would you?**

_xxx-xxx-6666_

_Finally adding me to your favorites, Angel?_

**xxx-xxx-xxxx**

**I was trying to change Ms. Device’s number, actually. Ever since her boyfriend tried to help me with this new phone, it hasn’t been working properly since. Jumbled up my contacts and numbers, the whole thing, really. **

_xxx-xxx-6666_

_Sounds like he’s even worse than you when it comes to tech. Didn’t think it was possible._

**xxx-xxx-xxxx**

**I do wish they stuck with rotary phones. Far more reliable. **

Just how old was this stranger? Crowley tried to rack his brain for the last time he saw one being used – the 80s? The 70s? Was this person as old as Shadwell? But Crowley quickly pushed the thought out of his mind - the person seemed more old-fashioned if anything, with their penchant for archaic books and phones. 

Speaking of Shadwell, Crowley had to call the old Witchfinder one of these days. See what more he could find out about Elysium Fields.

Intel didn’t just gather itself.

_xxx-xxx-6666_

_And you went to me for help? I must say, Angel, you are rather forward. _

**xxx-xxx-xxxx **

**Well, your number is the only one I’ve tested out, albeit accidentally. Ms. Device is on a flight back to the states for a few days and I’d prefer to not ask Mr. Pulsifer. **

_xxx-xxx-6666_

_Fair enough. _

And so, Crowley spent the better part of his afternoon helping a befuddled stranger rearrange his contact list.

* * *

It was at St. James’s Park that Crowley decided to message first, for once. He was wandering aimlessly, waiting for Shadwell to show up, once he finished whatever witch finding he was up to. He procured bread from one of the nearby carts, and started throwing it into the water.

_xxx-xxx-6666_

_Ducks._

**xxx-xxx-xxxx**

**I'm sorry?**

_xxx-xxx-6666_

_Water slides off of them. Could use one for my photo, if you’d like. _

Their last conversation ended with the stranger asking him to speculate on what photo to use for Crowley’s contact, as Crowley refused to outright give his name, wanting to keep up the charade of anonymity for a little longer. Using the name Anthony, or Tony, even, felt out of place. He’s always been just Crowley.

**xxx-xxx-xxxx**

**Favorite animal of yours? **

_xxx-xxx-6666_

_Nah. Snakes are, but they’re fascinating creatures, don’t you think?_

Before giving his wrong number stranger a chance to continue, Crowley snapped a photo of a group of ducks clustered around a piece of bread in the water, and sent it over.

_xxx-xxx-6666_

_ducks.png_

**xxx-xxx-xxxx**

**I would say they’re rather nice, just like the person sending them over. :)**

Crowley paused, scrutinizing the message. Was ‘Angel’ flirting with him? He scoffed at the notion a second later.

_xxx-xxx-6666_

_I’m the furthest thing from nice. _

**xxx-xxx-xxxx**

**Ah, yes, a demon would take time out of their busy schedule to help me with my phone. :P **

_xxx-xxx-6666_

_Demon?? Where’d that come from??_

**xxx-xxx-xxxx**

**You’ve been calling me an angel, so I figured demon would suffice. I also updated your contact with your ducks. **

**demonducks.png**

_xxx-xxx-6666_

_Someone’s gotten better at technology. _

**xxx-xxx-xxxx**

**I learned only from the best. :) **

Crowley was so caught up in his messaging that he didn’t notice Shadwell walk up right next to him.

“Mr. Crowley, I see you’re doing well,” Shadwell said loudly, eyeing Crowley’s phone. “Would your… friend be interested in joining the Witchfinder army? Provided they’re not a witch.”

“I’ll have to get back to them on that.” Crowley pocketed his phone, and continued, “Elysium Fields Corporation plans to acquire a certain property, and I need you, Sergeant Shadwell, to figure out what’s so important about this Garden of Eden. Could be magical. Could be –“

“-full of witches? I’ll send my best men on the case. Just tell me where we need to go.”

“Garden of Eden Estate – it’s located somewhere in Tadfield, small town near Oxford." He wrote down the address, and handed it over. "Call me if you find out anything.”

“Of course, Mr. Crowley. You’ll have my payment this weekend, right?”

“Yes, in cash, as always.”

“Excellent. Perhaps I’ll see your new friend there?” Before Crowley had a chance to voice any input, Shadwell spun around on his heel, and departed.

With him on the search, it left Crowley another week, give or take, before he had to do actual work. He didn’t want to think about it for the time being, and instead, opened his phone up again, to send another text to ‘Angel’.

_xxx-xxx-6666_

_But there’s also dolphins…_

**Author's Note:**

> Another Good Omens AU that I can't get out of my head. Updates to come gradually.


End file.
